Of Stories and Things
by Rulern Av Ost
Summary: 100 short-stories, each based on a different Prompt word. Mostly Harry-centric. Word: Forget. Slowly, the world forgot.
1. 011: Mermaid

**Word 011: Mermaid**

**A/N: **Some of the stories I'll post might someday become a full-fledged story, a long oneshot, or perhaps if someone is interested, they can continue the story themselves. :) But please, do ask for permission if that's the case.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.  
**Chapter Summary: **Before Harry starts Hogwarts, Harry encounters a Mermaid.

oOo

When Harry came back to Private Drive with an owl and a trunk full of "god knows what", it had been the last straw for one Vernon Dursley, who had practically thrown Harry and his new things into his car.

After a few hours' drive in silence, for Harry dared not say anything to his enraged uncle, the car had stopped outside of a forest. Without saying a word, Vernon left the car, opened the right backseat door, and dragged Harry out by his arm, ignoring his protests.

"Take this and cover your eyes with it." Was the only words Vernon would say during the entire exchange, while handing Harry a black scarf.

Harry dared not do anything but do as his uncle told him to, and as Vernon dragged out his trunk and grabbed Hedwig's cage, Harry carefully wrapped the scarf around his head, making sure he could see if he looked down at the ground.

And so began two hour long trek through the woods. And despite Harry's best attempt to keep track of where they were going by his limited vision, he quickly lost all sense of direction. Harry heard Hedwig squawk, and a thump as his uncle dropped his trunk.

"Uncle Vernon?"

There was no reply.

Harry could hear his massive uncle getting further and further away from him, yet he couldn't bring himself to remove the blindfold until long after any sounds of his steps were gone.

At first, once he had discarded his scarf, he had tried to walk a bit after where he had heard his uncles' footsteps disappearing to, before realizing it was no hope. He was hungry, but worst of all was the thirst.

Hedwig hooted at him.

"Hedwig. Please fly around and see if you can find some water?" He winched at the hoarse sound of his voice.

Hedwig gave another hoot as he opened her cage, before flying off.

Harry carefully sat down his trunk against a tree before sitting down, with his back against the tree. His arms wrapped against his knees as he hugged them tightly to himself.

The night was cold.

It didn't take more than a few minutes before Hedwig returned, and she flew a few feet above Harry as she showed him the way to water, to some form of salvation.

As he entered the huge meadow with a large lake, nothing in the world could've stopped Harry from running, throwing himself down on the lake's shore, and drinking to his hearts content.

oOo

It had now been three days since his Uncle Vernon had dropped him in these woods before driving off, leaving him to fend for himself.

Harry had never needed to wander far from the lake, in search of food. Quite a few different kinds of berries grew by the meadow's edges and as he was accustomed to a light diet and to go long without food, this wasn't too straining on him.

Hedwig would sometimes come with offerings of dead mice, but he nicely declined and told her to keep herself well fed.

When Hedwig was off hunting, Harry would entertain himself by reading his schoolbooks. Hopefully, someone from Hogwarts would come and find him soon.

He would usually read out-loud to himself. It helped with the almost eerie quiet that seemed to envelop the meadow.

It was while he was reading when he heard it, something big splashing in the water. His head snapped up from the book in his hands, his mouth gaping in shock at what he saw.

It was a woman. Well, not exactly a woman. She had long hair that looked suspiciously like seaweed, her eyes wide and yellow, looking distinctively like the eyes of a fish. Her skin looked like gray scales, and where her legs would be was a finned tail, which looked almost slimy.

Before Harry could react, she swam towards him with a speed that he couldn't hope to match when running, and pulled him under the water.

Harry panicked, flailing for his dear life, his eyes squished shut. He couldn't die now. Not like this.

His eyes snapped open as the creature, the monster trying to drown him, bloody _kissed_ him!

"Relax human. I mean you no harm. Breathe child, for Magic will let you."

Harry stopped fighting and carefully inhaled, slowly at first. He really could breathe. He tried to respond to the being holding him, but found that he could still only gurgle under the water.

"I have been listening to you read for some time now. I know who you are, little one."

He gave her a quizzical look.

"You are Harry Potter. Wizards name you 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. You survived Death, and for that, you have my respect."

Harry looked up, trying to convey to her that he wanted to get up on the surface. It was cold, and the creature still frightened him, her appearance hideous to him.

"I'll let you go soon. But first, I want to give you a gift. For such an interesting one as you," she gave him a wicked grin, hideous, her teeth yellow and sharp as knives, "doesn't come around often."

"Gift?" Harry mouthed.

She laughed, the sound cold and unforgiving, bringing shivers up Harry's spine.

"A gift in the beginning. But someday, you might call it a curse."

Before Harry had time to respond or react, she had bitten her finger, and shoved it into his mouth.

"Drink, little one. For the blood of a Mermaid, freely given, gives man the true Immortality."

Harry's eyes widened, he tried not to swallow any of the foul-tasting liquid forced into his mouth, but it seemed like the blood had a life of his own. It forced its way down his throat, like snakes, and he gagged and coughed but nothing helped. He couldn't breathe.

The last thing he saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was yellow fish-like eyes, and a cold voice telling him it expected great things from him.

oOo

When Harry woke up, it was to white walls and a bed with white sheets, and an old man with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles staring down at him with sorrow-filled blue eyes.

oOo

**A/N: **And that's the end for the first one. Only 99 more to go! :D


	2. 085: Rain

**Word 085: Rain**

**A/N:** This is a oneshot. :) There's no more of this story to be told, the rest are as in the canon.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.  
**Chapter Summery: **Harry only dies when it rains.

1.

Little Harry was woken up as his Mama burst into his bedroom. She ran to him picked him up, and placed him as gently as she could in the closet

"Harry, it is very important that you are as quiet as you can be. Remember Harry, you are so loved. Mama loves you. Dada loves you. Harry, be safe, be strong. "

The last thing Harry saw for a bit was his Mama's strained smile, and the door behind her being blasted open. Then nothing.

"Not Harry!"

Harry could hear his Mama's voice through the closet door,

"Please, no, not Harry – I'll do anything!"

A cold cruel laugh, "Avada Kedavra!" and a heavy thump as something hit the floor.

Harry could hear a couple of steps before the door opened and he was blinded by light. Yet, he smiled widely up at the figure in front of him, thinking it was his Mama coming to take him out of the closet.

A stick was pointed at him, similar to the one he had seen his Mama and Dada use so many times. He gurgled happily.

"Avada Kedavra."

He giggled, he liked the pretty green light.

And Harry died for the first time, on a rainy October night.

oOo

2.

The second time Harry died, he was only five years old.

Harry had broken a plate as he was doing the dishes. His uncle, in his rage, had thrown him out into the cold autumn evening.

His clothes, his far too large clothes, were soaked within minutes. His uncle's cruel words were still echoing in his head.

"I hope you die out there, freak."

At first, he had knocked relentlessly on the front door, but after his uncle, his face a nasty shade of purple, had stomped out and smacked the child so he fell into a puddle, Harry had abandoned that particular idea.

He didn't dare to approach one of the neighbors' homes either, in fear of the later repercussions. Not to mention that none of them were particularly fond of Harry either way.

And so, Harry curled up against the wall on the backside of the house, in an attempt to get away from the icy wind and the rain that felt like small whips on his skin. Sometimes, he stood up to peek through the window into the living room, his relatives sitting there watching the telly.

He envied them for the warmth. He was so incredibly _cold._

Slowly, Harry started dozing off, feeling himself slip away. His last thought that the cupboard wasn't so bad, after all.

oOo

3.

The third time was the night after Harry had saved Ginny from Tom Riddle and killed the Basilisk in the Chamber.

The other boys who shared a dorm with him had already fallen asleep, and Harry found himself once again sitting in the window, as he so often did when insomnia befell him.

The window was a comfort to him, a comfort he never had as a child, locked away in a dark cupboard. Now he could look over the grounds, sometimes catching sight of an owl flying by.

The memory of the Basilisk and a young Voldemort kept him awake, but so did the sweat, the shivers, the pain and his breathing, coming in short and heavy puffs which left damp on the window.

He closed his eyes and lent his forehead against the cool window, watching the raindrops slowly slide down the glass, leaving a trail of water behind.

Harry took a deep breath.

Fog covered the window a final time as the Basilisk venom in his system stopped his heart.

oOo

4.

There was nothing he could do.

He couldn't think of a happy enough memory to cast a Patronus. He was so cold, both from the presence of the Dementor and the rain. The Dementor made the rain as cold as ice, whereas before it had been a nice warm temperature.

Dudley had already ran home shortly after they'd felt the cold, after Harry had ushered him to do so. At least his cousin, - whom he may not be fond of, but still wouldn't wish a Dementor's Kiss on, would be safe and sound.

And while cold rain dripped down on him, turning into ice as soon as it landed on his face, Harry could feel the Dementor coming closer and closer, the screams in his head grew louder and louder, and he could feel as though everything he was disappeared through his mouth.

And so, the fourth time Harry died was when he was barely fifteen, to the Kiss of a Dementor.

oOo

5.

The fifth time Harry died, was by his own choice.

"Avada Kedavra."

It was necessary; it had to be done, so that one of Voldemorts last horcruxes could be destroyed.

So that Voldemort himself could be destroyed.

oOo

6.

Ginny had left him. Told him she had met another, that he was great and she would always care about him, but there was something different and special with this muggle she had met.

Their children were mostly grown up now, Lily in her sixth year at Hogwarts with James and Albus already graduated. They were sad, and supported their father to the best of their ability, but bore no anger towards their mother.

It hadn't stopped their father from going out this weekend to a muggle bar, drinking himself so drunk he could barely walk. That was how he had ended up lying in this dump, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, sobbing.

"I'm pathetic." He whispered to himself as he stared up at the cloudy sky, raindrops pouring down on him, his glasses covered in small water drops.

It was winter now, cold with a harsh northern wind, but still not quite cold enough for snow.

Yet, the alcohol made him feel warm enough to not be bothered too much by the cold.

"Blasted rain. Bloody Ginny. See if that muggle will have you for long, bet he doesn't know you're a witch. As magical as you are fucking beautiful."

He took another long sip from his bottle, before lying down and closing his eyes. He would just take a little nap before going home.

This was the sixth time Harry died, the first time he died since the prophecy wouldn't revive him anymore. It was also the first and only time, him being the Master of Death would take him from deaths slumber.

oOo

The seventh and final time Harry died, he was a grand one hundred and twenty-seven years old, lying on his death bed surrounded by his three children, and their wives and husband and eight children.

He had in the end led an eventful and happy life, filled with joys and laughter.

"Lily dear, would you please do your old father a favor and open the window?"

Lily, now old herself but still the youngest of Harry's children, did as her father requested. It was pouring outside, more than ever. Storm of the Millennia, the Daily Prophet had nicknamed it.

"I have died six times." Harry said, causing his family to look at him strangely.

"Every time, it rained. Now more than ever." He smiled, "It welcomes me, calls me home. And this time, there is no returning."

He closed his eyes and smiled, "It is like an old friend, whom I had almost forgotten, yet dearly missed."

The wind was blowing heavily, drops of rain blowing through the window and landing on Harry's face. Lily let out a hard, heavy sob.

The rain gave him peace.

oOo

**A/N:** Hope you all enjoyed it! :D Only 98 to go!


	3. 033: Warmth

**Warmth**

**A/N: **Just a short sweet drabble.  
**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is owned by J.K Rowling, not me.  
**Chapter Summary: **Harry sits in front of the fire, thinking of cold winter nights.

oOo

Winter nights used to be a freezing experience for him. There were no source of heating in the Cupboard Under the Stairs, and so young Harry had to sleep with an extra sweater or two if he were to get any sleep.

Now though, sitting in the warm hearth in the Gryffindor Common Room while staring into the flickering fire, the cold seemed like a distant memory. Almost as if it had been nothing more than a bad dream.

Now, winter nights for him, meant coming in after a magical snowball fight, change into dry robes and sit in front of the warm fire with a hot cup of cocoa while being surrounded by warm red and gold colours and good friends.

Now, even the coldest stormy winter nights were warm.


	4. 053: Yellow

**Word 053: Yellow  
Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J.K Rowling.  
**Chapter Summary: **Harry's favourite colour is yellow.

oOo

Harry had always liked the colour yellow.

Yellow was bright and cheerful, the colour of the sun in the sky and daffodils.

It was a welcome change, after living with the white and beige of the Dursley household, and the almost but not-quite black of his old cupboard under the stairs.

He sort of envied the Hufflepuffs for their colour-scheme, the yellow and black contrasting nicely against each other, the black bringing out the sheer vibrancy of yellow.

When Harry finally got a place of his own after graduating Hogwarts, he made sure to have yellow walls in his bedroom, and paint the living room a soft, faded yellow colour.

It made him smile.

oOo

**A/N:** Eh, just a short sweet drabble with no connection to anything at all. :P


	5. 005: Forget

**Forget**

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.  
**Chapter Summary: **Slowly, the world forgot.

oOo

The war had ended.

It had started slowly. Less and less articles about him in the Daily Prophet, until Rita Skeeter was the only reporter that ever wrote anything about him.

Some students would look quizzical when anyone mentioned his name, sometimes they would remember and sometimes not.

Even his friends seemed to forget about some of their adventures together. Some of them they would remember if he talked reminded them, others they had forgotten completely.

One day, even Rita Skeeter ceased writing about him entirely.

The teachers stopped noticing him in class. Only Snape would sometimes acknowledge him with a few cutting insults.

One day, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws didn't remember a 'Harry Potter' anymore. Some didn't even notice that he was there at all. The ones that did notice him, had no clue who he was at all.

The Gryffindors treated him as just another student in their house and the Slytherins treated him as any other Gryffindor.

Even Draco seemed to have forgotten about the grudge he held for him, instead focusing his antagonizing behavior entirely on Ron.

It didn't take many days until even the Slytherins took no notice of his existence.

The Gryffindors talked to him less and less, until they too treated him as though he was invisible.

When Snape stopped noticing him when he was late to class, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Luna were the only ones to acknowledge his presense at all.

Slowly, Ron and Hermione spent more and more time together, letting their relationship blossom, until one day, when Ginny was talking to him, they asked her who was talking with.

That night, Ginny told him she loved him.

The morning after, she couldn't see him either.

Luna would still talk to him, making her receive a lot of confused looks. People would sometimes ask her who she was talking to, and when they she told them she was talking to Harry Potter, they just thought it another piece of evidence that the girl was mad. After all, Lily and James Potter had died with no children of their own.


End file.
